"Very well. Let's go on. Pontifex awaits, I'm sure. Let's walk on—you know, decently, like Christian worthies debating how best to diddle a neighbor over a line fence and yet remain in a state of grace."
"Pagan Athenian!"
"Of course."
"I recall a time, when thou wast—"
"The boy's dead. Poor snotnose, he died near Springfield in the Massachusetts, in the reign of Queen Anne. Tell me something, Ben, and don't be angry—remember how Mother used to call me Puppy?"
"Of course. And Father called thee Sir Inquiry."
"Ha? So he did...."
"Why should I be angry?"
"She called me that, I think, because I am—I am over-demonstrative, heart on my sleeve and can't help it, Ben, it's my way, my way. I only meant to ask—does it trouble thee, that I like to put my arm over thy shoulder, sometimes kiss thy cheek? Because——"
"Now why in the world should it trouble me? A'n't thou my own brother, Athenian?"